Love Notes Confessions Of A Time Lady
by Thalia Ann J
Summary: little does Jack realise, this is from the woman who has never been proud to call him her husband...


**Love Notes; from a (Time) Lady, to someone who once neared humanity ;)**

(little does Jack realise, this is from the woman who has never been proud to call him her husband...)

From the diaries I kept when we were young, and you stood half a chance of being normal. Some of these memories mean a lot to me, and they are kind of reasons for coming back to Cardiff. I can't be without you anymore. Oh, and legally, I was never married to that Gallifreyan fool. Not in the eyes of the Church, anyway. Small wedding in a reception office. Classy. Also, we never "did it". That would just have been wrong. Very.

Ha! August 17th 5049! You're the worst groom in the history of bad grooms, and I have married a Gallifreyan idiot-borderline-schizophrenic! We both know what this day is all about. Revenge. Well. It's kind of about love too, but you're almost too gay to function. Idiot! Now I smell of champagne and roses. And that's not a good thing, because I drank most of the wine in Sorcha's house this morning, and I'm really tired. I'm struggling to keep awake, and I should be bursting at the seams with energy and hormones! The dress is cream, and a good job too. I'm not exactly pure. Not after the number of alien life-forms I've slept with.

Family matters. That's what my mother always says. Jack, she's Gallifreyan, she knows these things. Believe me.

Well don't say nobody warned you! Jack. Listen. Random DJ's is just what the 51st century could do without, but I request an ancient song. The last thing I really want is Whitney Houston's random warblings, but I can't help it. People need to see there is more to us than meets the eye. There's not much, but try and act like you love me at least! At least let me feel like Missus Harkness. Just for a while. Please?

Do you know how difficult it was for two women to live together in the 19th Century? Personally, I don't think it was Victoria who disliked gay women; I always thought Albert was a little bit homophobic. But you try living with someone as annoying as Romana for a hundred and forty years. Mainly in Cardiff! Curse that Gallifreyan judge; if it wasn't for him, I would have a perfectly valid drivers lisence and I wouldn't get stopped for speeding every other friday night, whilst on Weevil duty.

Early 1901. I wont go over the last 45 years, but I'm sorry that I left you in 1941. The Blitz was no place for a Time Lady with a sonic device and a Time Agent's Vortex Manipulator. It took you three days after meeting me again for you to realise I was the woman you lost all those years ago. Well, more precisely, it took you three days, a night of sex and a bottle to the stomach to realise it was me. I often wondered what had happened to you, and I hated you for not finding me, but I'm sorry about the bottle. That had to hurt. Yes. I was the one who made Emily and Alice electrocute you; I simply knew the effects it normally had on me, then calculated them for someone who could no longer die, and decided you were safe. Oh, the death thing? I figured that one out when I hit you with the bottle. Says it all, I suppose. Fair enough, you could have hit me with the bottle straight back, but you didn't. Do I detect a slight hint of affection in you, Mister Harkness???

Very, very late 1941. Ha! Got it! Forty years in the figuring out, but, here goes. You've had an unfortunate experience with the Time Vortex, haven't you? I mean, we've all thought about, some of us more successful than others (I can no longer look Romana in the eye) but what did you do? Soak it up? Okay, okay. I wont laugh. Since I'm a Time Lady of the Prydon Chapter of Gallifrey, I have stood in front of the untempered schism. But at least one of us is still sane! Mind you, I think even psychotic nutcases who call themselves family (you know who I mean!) are saner than you and I put together! Yes. I think little miss Rani is far saner than anyone who would work for Torchwood!

Even Torchwood is quiet at times (touch wood) but this is ridiculous. Twenty years and just 81 attempted invasions! Mind you, beats Al and Em's previous record of six months without anything. 1961. Pop music is on it's way, and Liverpool will never be the same again. Of course, who knows what may happen. Fair enough, we've both been to the 21st century a few times, but who knew that life on Earth was so dull? It's all cloud and pink people. What's wrong with a bit of variety? I've even contemplated setting a "loose science experiment" off in the city, just to liven the place up a bit, cos god knows that Cardiff is crap!

I'm trying to go as quick as I possibly can, but I keep forgetting things to write, but I think I'll go know to sometime towards the end of the 20th century. By day I'm studying hard to become a qualified Doctor, because we all know that Torchwood actually needs one. And by night, I'm pretending to be a qualified Doctor, who knows what they're actually doing. Which I do, I'm just not exactly qualified to carry out a post mortem examination. I mean, we could go on as normal. Me, you, Alex and Destiny. Me and you the ex-Time Agent's, who stop at nothing to gain new alien technology - I've seen the scars you got from that night in Venice. Don't deny you slept with three women to gain an exact replica of the device I spent three years inventing! Then there's Alex and Destiny - former "normal" humans. Now working for Torchwood. Really, the only thing that makes me any different from you three, is the small fact I'm an alien working for an organisation that works to prevent alien crime in Cardiff. And don't start, we all know the biggest crime I ever comitted was setting fire to the C.E.O's desk in Canary Wharf. For the last time. It was an accident.

Well, I have heard it all. I know I was always the one to say we weren't ready for the 21st century, and we all knew we weren't, but I struggle to understand why Alex shot himself, me and Destiny. Fair enough, I have skills enough to remove a bullet from my own shoulder, but I can't do that quick enough to remove one from somebodies stomach. Okay, I know I regenerate, but why waste one life, when you've had to remove bullets from yourself several times over the years? There's no real point, is there?

The next few months are rather slow, and it's not until Suzie joins us, that the 21st century seems to make hell of a lot more sense. At least we know I'm a fire hazard whilst working with a computer. And a safety hazard behind the wheel of an SUV. It's quite a challenge to stop two almost-invasions with just the three of us, but it's not long before I enlist the help of someone I have trusted for years. Liz. From the hospital. I think I gave her retcon at the end of the two years, and with hope, she no longer remembers what Torchwood is. She's not exactly strong willed.

Sometime during that two years, I actually qualified as a Doctor. An actual Alien Doctor!!! And as we both know a Gallifreyan by the name of "the Doctor"; OMG! Also, during that time, you rescued Toshiko Sato. She instantly thinks I'm a nutter; but who can blame her? I think I am, a bit! I personally think she's a nice girl, who doesn't really say much; but when you consider the recent trauma she's suffered, you can't help but understand why she likes to keep herself to herself.

Damn hospital jobs all the way into hell! Okay, I applied for the post of "Cardiotherasic Consultant" after spending most of my free time at a University teaching hospital in Cardiff, shadowing senior consultants and surgeons. But I didn't think I'd actually get the job. No. This isn't "bye, bye Torchwood" don't worry. I'm still gonna be around if you need me. Well, if I can get the hang of how to use a pager properly, anyway. I'm not the worlds greatest when it comes to electronics!

Oh. My. Gosh. Could this century get any worse? Owen. Harper. We're not exactly hitting it off. I mean, hello! We have slept together so many times, I've lost count. And he's not exactly got a good attitude to me, either, so don't expect me to be sympathetic. I just don't do sympathy for people who upset me. And before anyone asks, yes, I know about Katie. I'm not completely oblivious to the world around me, you know!

Ah, Owen's second week. He's not showed up for work, and there's been an alien spaceship crash-land in the Thames. So I travel to London with Toshiko, who must pose as a Medical Officer or something, because Owen is AWOL and UNIT know me too well. I stowedaway in the Pathology labs. I did actually help Toshiko identify some of the technology augmenting the pig. Yeah. I'm just glad I didn't come face to face with a Slitheen. I had a brief encounter with one many, many years ago. Almost 200, infact! Toshiko did a very good job of covering for Owen.

Two weeks after the "invasion" I get an unexpected call from Canary Wharf, because their "Head Of Medical" has gone down with a nasty case of the flu, and I'm first on their list of people to get in touch with if a situation arises! Which, it did. Five months, I'm there. Five bloody months with Yvonne Hartman as my boss, and our future (coffee maker) secrtary, Ianto Jones' cups of coffee to keep me awake. It's sometime between Christmas and New Year that I get back to Cardiff, to find my bloody job at the hospital gone to someone with fifteen years more experience than me. More experience than a 773 year old Time Lady? How the hell do you figure that one out? The I get called back there approximately three months later, therefore, I am there for most of a year. I H A T E Y O U Y V O N N E H A R T M A N!

It's the list of the dead. Torchwood; Canary Wharf, was destroyed in a battle between the Daleks and the Cybermen. Oh, and a little force of nature known as "the Doctor". Well, I assume he had sometime to do with the Breach being opened. I mean, the walls between the Universes. It's one hell of a death list. You spot just one name on there. One name I know that you know personally. In what way, it isn't my business, but you know her, don't you, Jack? Rose Tyler. I, personally, have just got back from Canary Wharf (thanks Yvonne, those were two months I could have done without!), where, incidentally, I was caught up in battle, but was identified as "an enemy" and therefore, "deleted". It takes one of Owen's complete (and not too precise) bio-scans to determine that it is actually me, and not some imposter (i.e. the Rani). Urgh. I can still remember the "singularity scalpel incident". I wont be using it in a hurry. At least most forms of ionising radiation have little effect on me.

Of course I knew what Suzie was up to. Why do you think I left? I mean, apart from becoming Medical Advisor for UNIT. Yes, we all - me, you, Suzie, Tosh and Owen - know that I have hated Alastair Lethbridge Stewart since we clashed over a rogue Time Lord in the 1980s, but he's a good man really, and we all know I am one of the best Alien scientists this planet has ever seen. And I mean that in the sense that I know most aliens inside and out. Also, I mean that I, Georgie, am actually an alien ;)

The less said about the Master, the better. Enough said.

I came back to Torchwood for seven days soon after receiving a visit from my Gallifreyan Doctor, who told me he didn't blame me for anything (apart from shooting the Master, obviously). Gwen took to me straight away, Owen and Tosh just thought I was still as much a nutter as before, I don't really know what you think of me anymore, because you're doing your best to ignore me, Ianto Jones from Canary Wharf seems to be working for us and we seem to be missing Suzie. Then you told me what had happened.

Stresses of the job forced me to leave you lot again, but, thanks to friends in (very) high places, I have my job back at City Hospital, and I seem to be on a streak of good luck, because I don't seem to be losing patients anymore! Which is better than having a streak of bad luck, and having to part with most of my clothes during a game of strip poker with you, Sochi and John. How on Earth did you manage to keep all your clothes on???

Of course, nothing ever goes to plan when you know people from Torchwood; I mean, okay, there were no alien viruses (thank goodness!) but, there's always got to be one piece of alien technology that wont do its proper job. The so-called "Risen mitten" (I think Ianto called it) was always a pain in the arse. Suzie only managed to get it to work for two minutes because she was good at it, but who on earth goes in search of the remaining one of the pair and brings Owen back to life? Of course, it had to be a man from which the life can not be drained. Of course, there was always the possibility he could decompose. I mean, yeah, we all know what John's like, but Owen stranded in a room with high radiation? Figures. Oh, and don't start all the "but raditation doesn't seem to harm you either, Georgie" because I am definitely not in the mood.

As you are reading this, Jack, possibly aloud to Ianto and Gwen, I will be falling around my house, looking for MATCHING socks; which will prove almost impossible, because I'm not strategic, and generally throw things into drawers when I've cleaned it! You've asked me to return to Torchwood. Have you finally gotten over what happened last time we spent too much time close by? But, I promise to try and not mention anything about it. Oh, and tell Gwen she needs to file the information on the Himalayas under "space, a great big waste of". That was my idea. We couldn't have Torchwood interfearing; not with someone as thick as the Master on the loose. An accident waiting to happen; like me in a laboratory. Believe me, Jack, I know that postal service like I know the back of my current hand. 10:35, on the dot, Ianto will bring it down, you'll read it, though, admittedly, it'll probably take you half an hour to read it; you've got an attention span like the wing span of an ant.

This is the bit that will probably make you surface. I'll be here, Jack. 11:03am, on the dot, just like old times. Well, ish. I'm a lot less reliable these days, and far more unpredictable.

Oh, and when I get here, I am going to give Ianto a piece of my mind. Which piece, I don't know, just a bit.


End file.
